


The Autumn Hour

by midnighhts



Series: Fictober 2017 [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Autumn, Drabble, Fictober 2017, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Squip, Weed Jacket™, sophomores!, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 19:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12239472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnighhts/pseuds/midnighhts
Summary: Leaves are orange, the air is cold, Starbucks is on full blast Pumpkin Spice Latte mode. . . You know what that means: It's autumn!a small drabble about the greatness of youth in the coldness of october ♥️DAY 1 PROMPT ISFALL





	The Autumn Hour

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. i honestly dont know what the fuck im talking about  
> 2\. anything i write about autumn is based off tv and other media  
> 3\. this is going to be my first autumn! im excited
> 
> happy sp00k month my dudes♥️♥️
> 
>  
> 
> ~~this is kinda late. oops (+_+)~~

Jeremy was never a Heat Person. It's not that he hated summer, or anything; he just. . .sweats a lot. It's kind of weird. He'd get into the little things that make his heat aversion _really weird_ , but he doesn't need that right now, thank you. He isn't a very summer person, either; all the other kids were hanging out at the lake, or whatever, while he stayed cooped up with a 3DS.

This year was almost literal hell. The only good thing about June was Michael's basement, cool and air-conditioned in the soaring 85's. Well, it would be great and all until one of them eventually leaves the door open, and all that cool air gets totally sucked out, leaving them even sweatier and stickier than when they went down.

Thank you, global warming. The scorching summer was a beast, but now it's autumn, and Jeremy's half-convinced everything's going to be fine.

Autumn.

Fall.

Long sweaters, hoodies, jackets, scarves, and layers upon layers of warmth. Pumpkins, candy, horror movies, a Silent Hill playthrough at his place and a Slenderman binge at Michael's.

Everything about it is so wonderful. 'Tis the season to be spooky, after all.

Jeremy doesn't want to brag, by the way, but with this chill in the air, and the haunting whispers of inanimate lawn directions, he can totally wear his favourite jackets. He'd worn his navy blue when the temparature was still too warm, but as the temperature plummets. . . .

Michael gives him a wolf-whistle as he steps into Michael's car (a Chrysler that his mom actually owns, but they call it his anyway). Even Michael shed into a better jacket; gone is the beloved red, and today's he's wearing his Sonic jacket that he bought back in middle school that is still a little too big on his frame. He has a pair of gloves and a touque stuffed under his seat, though they look like something the Mells received for Christmas last year from an impersonal coworker of his mom's.

"Well, I'll be damned," Michael says, voice waivering into something Western while still unable to sound anything like it. "Am I seeing things, or is that the one and only, highly proclaimed, highly coveted weed hoodie?"

Jeremy grins. "You're quite correct, good sir." He turns to grab the seatbelt, but he can't help but preen a bit and twist even more because _weed hoodie_.

All buckled in, Michael pulls out of the driveway. He rolls his eyes behind his glasses as he swerves onto the main street. "Yeah, well, no need to brag, asspants."

Jeremy would reach over and smack Michael if he could, but he would like to get to school in one piece, please. There are yellow-orange leaves everywhere, sticking to the windshield wipers, and blocking the view of the road. He would really like to get there in one piece, please, Lord, or whatever deity is listening to his thoughts.

"Ready for the pumpkin spice latte surge?" Michael asks as he overtakes a random grandma in a beat up car. Jeremy digs his nails into his seat.

"Uh. . ." Jeremy manages. He sits up higher, back pressed flat against the seat. "Totally, dude. I've been waiting for months to bust out my Uggs."

Michael sticks his tongue out at him. "Birkenstocks for life, dude."

"Eyes on the road, Socks And Sandals," Jeremy shoots back.

"Sorry, sorry, _Pumpkin Spice,"_ Michael retorts just as easily as if, y'know, he isn't an unsupervised minor driving above the speed limit.

"God," Jeremy says between laughs, "that makes me sound like a Spice Girl."

They pull up to the school relatively unscathed. Of course that's subjective since Michael's beaming while Jeremy is leaning on the pickup next to them, trying to catch his breath. The world isn't actually spinning right now, but it's close enough.

"I'm gonna catch the bus next time," Jer croaks.

Michael laughs. He pushes up his glasses with his fingers. "It wasn't that bad!"

Jeremy starts waddling to the school entrance, his bag slung over his shoulder, hands buried deep into his weed hoodie pockets. The other students start to trickle into the school grounds as well, each of them in various types of layering. While it may be underdressing to just go for his weed jacket and a pair of pants he hopes is still clean, it definitely isn't a Chloe Valentine kind of overdressing.

Michael nudges his shoulder, stopping his stare. "God, can't they keep it to themselves? It's way too early in the morning."

Chloe has her side basically glued to Jake Dillinger's arm. Both of them are juniors, popular, and ready set for a booming college life. There's a blonde girl that trails behind them, clearly a groupie or something.

"Ah," Jeremy grouses, "the popular life."

Yeah, Chloe and Jake also always make out every five minutes, and walk like a turtle through the halls since they're too busy snuggling up to each other. They're not totally terrible people; they're just. . .

"Conceited? Shallow? Boring?"

Jeremy blinks. "Did I say that out loud?"

Michael hooks his arm over Jeremy's shoulders. "Dude, I know what you're always thinking." He pulls Jeremy down, running his hand through Jeremy's hair.

"Dude!" Jeremy shrieks. He manages to pull away, but the damage is done. "What if Chri--What if _she_ saw me like this?!" He tries to fix it, while, y'know, being chill and cool about it, but _the damage is done._ RIP Hair. The funeral is tomorrow.

Michael rolls his eyes. "You always look good, dude." He links his arms with Jeremy's, sending the other's balance toppling once more. "Besides, I heard she likes guys with messy hair."

Jeremy's head snaps up so fast, it's a miracle he doesn't get whiplash. "Really?"

Michael bursts out laughing, pulling away from Jeremy.

"Not funny," Jeremy murmurs, pouting.

"I'm sorry," Michael says, sobering up. "That was mean."

Jeremy huffs. "Yeah, it was."

"Look, dude, if it really bothers you, I can grab my touque." Michael fishes out his car keys, and jangles it in front of Jeremy as an offer.

"Sure. Let's go," Jeremy says, nodding. He turns around and -- a giant fucking wolf head-man-thing jumps at him, roaring! -- like a dude trying to growl from behind a rubber mask. It's actually a short wolf head-man-thing, but that little detail is completely missed out on Jeremy who yelps at the top of his lungs, stumbling backwards in shock. His body comes into contact with Michael's, and both of them step back.

The obviously-a-dude-in-a-mask turns his growl into a loud, mocking laugh. Even he stumbles back, though for a different reason. He's doubled over in laughter as he shimmies out from the wolf mask. "You should've seen your faces!"

The realisation hits, and Jeremy releases his fingers from where they dug into Michael's arm. He coughs, cheeks burning.

"It wasn't that funny," Jeremy tries, but then fucking Rich Goranski butts in saying, "You screamed so loud!" before laughing again.

Michael readjusts his glasses. "What was that for, Rich?"

Rich points to something behind them. "You guys just got Halloween PRANKED!"

Jenna Rolan waves one hand at them, the other holding a camera steady.

Michael opens his mouth to say something, but Rich butts in _again._ "Congrats on being the first scaredy cats of the day, boys." He slips the mask back on, and it honestly looks too big for him, but given Rich's reaction to almost anything, Jeremy would rather avoid getting beat up.

Jeremy turns away from Rich, glancing over his shoulder, and _Fuck_. He tries to nudge Michael as inconspicuous as he can because Christine is watching them. She's watching them make a fool of themselves, while he still has ridiculous hair, amd she's bundled up in this cute peacoat, and _Michael, Look_.

"Rich! I heard Dustan Kropp is in the library!" Jenna says, "Operation Weenie is a Go!"

Her voice pulls Jeremy out of his stalkerish trance. He burns bright red in an instant, like a struck match.

Christine saw him in his weed hoodie. _Fuuuuu_ \--

Rich nods at Jenna, serious yet playful. "Roger that, Rolan."

And they're off, as if they just didn't eembarrass both Michael and himself.

"You ok, Jer?" Michael asks, almost off-handedly. "You looking kinda flushed."

" _Michael_ ," Jeremy hisses, trying not to blush even though his cheeks are still super fucking warm. He jerks his head backwards to where Christine was. "She saw it."

"Who?"

"Christine!"

"Oh," Michael says, but he sounds more confused than anything. "Where is she?"

Jeremy jerks his head, and, yep, that wasn't the smartest idea. The pain doesn't stop him, though, from realising that, Oh, Yeah, Where Is She?

Jeremy frowns. "Not again."

Michael pats him on the back. It's not exactly a reassuring gesture, but he'll take it. "Well, dude, at least she didn't hear what you said about her beforehand."

" _Michael_ ," he whines as Michael laughs, "Not the point."

"Come on," he says, and he hoists his own bag higher. "I'm just looking out for 'ya." And he is. In his own little ways. There's no need to be whiney and stuff to his best friend; he understands.

Michael smoothes out the wrinkled face of old-timey Sonic on his jacket. "Ready, Player One?"

Jeremy rolls his eyes, good-natured of course. He bumps his elbow against Michael's, and everything's as it always is again -- only colder. "As ready as I can be, Player Two."

Michael grins. It's infectious, and Jeremy's grinning, too.

"I'll race you to class!" Michael shouts, and he takes off, stepping over leaves and puddles, and dashing around other students. This may be why the seniors hate the lower levels so much, but it's fall! Skeletons are in the air, and everyone's mass producing candy! How's a little fun going to hurt in such a shit high school?

Be more festive, guys. There's magic and mischief in the air.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. "roaring 85's" im trying to be hip and cool with the americans by using fahrenheit aww yeah // thats about 30 for the rest of the world  
> 2\. Michael's Chrysler is the infamous PtT Cruiser from michael in the bathroom  
> 3\. weed jacket. Weed Jacket. tjank u  
> 4\. touque is a canadian thing,,,,,,,,, uhh basically a beanie fam. google it if u need further clarification


End file.
